Alice’s cheek brushed the rafters of the White Rabbit’s cottage as her head, along with the rest of her, bloomed in size, filling the animated fantasy space with her increasingly massive frame. Her white-stockinged leg stretched and crashed through the rabbit’s furniture like paper cutouts. Her black mary-jane led the charge just as her furry host opened his door, only to be catapulted back down the hall by the incoming sole of Alice’s shoe.
“Oh, no, no, not again!”
Paul shuddered. His cheeks flushed, with eyes glued to the computer screen, while his hand worked feverishly beneath the bedsheets. He’d seen this video, and its companion sequences of the cartoon lass growing to astonishing heights, countless times. He’d memorized every syllable of dialogue and every twitch in the animation. Hours of his childhood were spent in front of the television, rewinding the video tape over and over, and only those scenes; he had it to a science.
Still, seeing Alice grow again drew him in just as fervently as ever. Holding his breath, Paul waited through the boring intervening seconds, until the young Englishwoman plucked up the puny white rabbit between her fingers.
“Paul!” boomed the singsong voice of his mother Patricia through the wall. Her knuckles rapped on his bedroom door. “Oh, Paul, dear, could you come out and join us, please? We’ve got company, after all, and I wouldn’t want the family to think you’ve holed up like a little oyster in there!”
Startled, Paul slammed his computer closed and shoved it under the covers. He stood, waiting out his lingering half-mast after the intensity of the viewing experience. His cheeks were still flushed red. The boy had entirely forgotten the family get-together luncheon arranged for today. His extended family was liable to be just a room away now. Giant Alice and the rabbit’s tiny house would have to wait.
Adequately composed at last, Paul pulled up his slacks, tucked his plaid shirt into the belt, and shuffled out into the hall.
“Oh, there you are, sweetie!” Patricia said. She cupped her hands together, smiling tenderly at him as he shambled into the living room. “Are your ears burning?”
“Why? Are… are they red?” he muttered.
“Yeah, they are!” his older sister Nettie giggled from where she sat in the big living room armchair. Her palms bounced daintily on the opened fan of her pink skirt, the hem of her petticoats just teased at the edge. “Look! They’re all red, like he’s outta breath or something.”
“Now, now…” Patricia laughed. She stood, smoothing out the apron wrinkles on her own low-hanging skirt in her favorite wild violet hue. Hands spread wide in welcome, she approached her only son where he stood in the door frame. “I meant, we were all just talking about you, Paul.”
“Oh?” the boy croaked. He cast a glance over the rest of the crowded living room. Past where his mother now stood, and where his older sister was still laughing in her chair, and into the broader space. More than a dozen female family members of all ages greeted him with bright eyes and waving hands. It was definitely a larger turnout than he’d first guessed when his mother said “family luncheon.”
There were his Aunts Kathleen and Debra; his cousins Betsy, Britta, and Barb; a few second cousins, a great aunt or two. It was a full house of dishwater blondes and toothpaste grins, everyone dressed in their rainbow-colored Sunday best dresses and accompanying paraphernalia. Paul was only glad he’d waited to cool down before emerging from his room.
An index finger prodded hard at his shoulder blade from behind. Surprised yet again, Paul turned around, and felt his esophagus wrap into double knots.
There stood his oldest sister Elise, decked in a spotless baby-blue skirt, white apron, petticoats like that of a certain fictional character, complete with long cream stockings and spit-shined mary-janes on her feet. That bombshell blonde hair of hers was crowned by an adorable black bow, and her beaming, victorious smile was the cap of the ensemble.
And right now, she was Paul’s every fantasy and nightmare, rolled into one.
“Whatever’s the matter, Paul?” Elise asked. She frowned, even as she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You don’t like my new outfit?”
“N-No, no… it’s, um…” he stuttered. He could feel the sweat on his neck. “It’s nice.”
“Come sit with us, Paul,” Patricia said. Her hand wrapped around her son’s thin shoulder, embracing him into her much more ample frame as they waltzed toward the nearest open couch cushions. Obediently, Paul plopped down on the plush seat beside his mother, while Elise settled into a chair just across from her younger brother. In that instant, then, Paul realized every eye in the room was still upon him. Every smile just as full.
He tugged at the neck of his shirt collar.
“I’m glad you’re here now, Paul,” Patricia said. She gave her high-fastened hairdo a plumping pat-down. “We’ve been having a very productive conversation out here, all of us, you see.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Yes indeed. You see, after we put our heads together… me, your sisters, your aunts, cousins… we’ve all come to a few troubling conclusions which, ultimately, we believe can come to a happy solution which benefits everyone equally.”
Paul bit his lip. What kind of nonsense was this?
His main issue at this moment was just trying to pry his eyes away from his older sister in her Alice in Wonderland get-up. Especially while she eyed him just as meaningfully, a cheeky glint in her eye. Already, the cooldown from earlier was for nothing. He leaned forward, hoping to conceal his pants tent.
“Dear?” Patricia snapped cheerily, though her tone was instantly steeled. “Are you listening to me?”
“Huh?”
A few anonymous giggles rang out from further back in the room.
“How… well, how should I put this delicately?” Patricia pondered aloud.
“We know ALL ABOUT your freaky little Alice in Wonderland fetish!” blurted Nettie from her chair, subtle as ever.